


The Magnus Boarding School

by PinotPurple (orphan_account)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Canon-Typical Violence, Jon almost dies on the first day of school, Jon has social anxiety and sensory issues, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Relationships to Be Added - Freeform, References to the Original Show, Slice of Life, canon-typical mystery, martin writes poetry, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 19:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PinotPurple
Summary: Jonathan Sims is a young noble who begins his stay at the Magnus College, London. He comes to learn that the prestigious institute is far stranger than the wildest rumours claim it to be.





	The Magnus Boarding School

**Author's Note:**

> rip doing my thesis  
Edit: yeaaaaaah I’m not updating this any time soon bc college will be the death of me sorry ily bye

Jonathan Sims looked with dread out the window of the carriage as the Magnus College came into view. It was an imposing building with many floors and many more windows overlooking the expanse of the field around it, the city of London in the distance and the forest nearby. It had cream walls with white bas-reliefs and a copper roof. In front of the front entrance was a little garden with a fountain. From the back of the estate peeped a sports field. Even from that distance he could feel it stare at him and his carriage rolling down the road, not unlike an owl high atop a fir would stare at a little mouse. Even if Jonathan pulled the curtain of the window, hid in his den, the owl could still plunge its claws through it, destroy it, and pull him out, eat him whole. This place was going to be his home for the next four years.

His grandmother sat next to him. She looked impatient, but restrained from telling the driver to go faster one more time. They were almost there. She wore a black dress that covered everything but her head and her hands. It was tastefully decorated with lace in lighter or deeper shades of black, and atop her head she wore a black hat with a veil, also decorated with lace. She wore black ever since her son, Jonathan’s father, died, almost pointedly so. It was no secret to Jonathan that he was going to the boarding school not just for the excellent education it would provide him, but more so to get him off her back. Jonathan was fine with it, as the desire to get away was a mutual one.

As the carriage rolled closer, Jonathan recalled the first time he saw the Magnus College three months ago, at the beginning of the summer. The headmaster, Lord Elias Bouchard, gave the two of them a tour. Jonathan thought back then that Lord Bouchard looked like the owl that was on the crest of the school, a barn-owl. He was a pale man with blond hair turning white. He had a Greek nose and pointed blond eyebrows that got lost in the pallor of his face. He was a handsome man with a very charming smile, despite the wrinkles creeping around his eyes and mouth. He seemed to wish to impress Jon as much as he wanted to impress Lady Sims, who was easily smitten. She decided that evening Jonathan was going to be enrolled and Jonathan didn’t have much say in the matter. He didn’t mind it. The Magnus College seemed like a pleasant place, not just from the outside. Lord Bouchard knew he got the boy when he showed them the school’s library. Jonathan genuinely wished he could move there.

Jonathan waited with excitement for autumn to come and to move into the dormitory, but as the building came closer and closer, he felt anxious and agitated. All his life until then he lived in Bournemouth, with his grandmother. His parents died when he was too young to remember them and his grandmother preferred to leave him in the care of his nanny and her servants. Jonathan didn’t have many friends. He wasn’t very good at making them and once he was singled out as an odd child, he had little occasions to make them. He spent his time reading books, which for the moment supplemented any longing he might have had. His extensive knowledge in literature was what got him into the Magnus College and his grandmother liked to brag about how she nurtured his love for books since a young age. It was all Jon could do not to glare at her. He couldn’t wait to get to school. He could finally be. And, perhaps,… he could try to make friends. If they’ll be forced to stay all day together, it might be easier.

The front of the boarding school was packed with carriages, with servants carrying luggage, with parents and sons going in and out the front doors, drivers struggling to find a parking space while others struggled to get back on the road. Jonathan Sims and Lady Sims stepped out and stayed together as to not collide with anyone. A lady was walking back into her carriage, which was parked next to theirs. Jon’s eyes were caught by a flash of very ginger hair. His grandmother yanked him to keep walking towards the entrance. The little garden in the front was unfortunately trampled on the edges, the flowers drying up with the arrival of autumn dying even faster. The marble fountain in the middle, currently turned on, was of Athena, looking forward, head held high, holding a bundle of books held against her chest with one hand and a sword in the other, planted in the edge of the bowl where the water gathered. A quite large spider web was weaved between the top of the blade and her unmoving frock.

The dormitory was in absolute chaos. The hallways were not designed to have so many people in them at once, going in different directions. More than once Jon had his feet stepped on and Lady Sims had her dress stepped on and caught into the buckles of a suitcase. Both of them were in a very sour mood when they reached Jon’s designated room.

He was going to share it with two other boys, both of whom were already there. The room was small, made even smaller by the furniture in it. Parallel to the door was a large window overlooking the sports field outside. To the left were two beds, each with a nightstand and a small desk, and to the right was a bed with a night stand and a desk and three armoires pushed next to each-other. On the handles were hung three uniforms, dark green and black. Jonathan guessed the smallest was his.

Next to the bed on the right was a large suitcase certainly packed with clothes and personal belongings, and next to the suitcase were a young boy, his parents, and headmaster Bouchard. On the bed to the left closest to the window was a boy by himself, unpacking his suitcase. He looked awkward, trying not to listen to the strangers’ quiet conversation with the headmaster. He was pale and chubby. Jonathan couldn’t take his eyes of his hair. It was curly and ginger, a golden auburn like he had only seen on saints in stained glass windows in churches. The boy looked up at the newcomers. His eyelashes were ginger too and so long for a boy. Jonathan quickly looked away and focused on the other boy. His hair was jet-black and a little wavy. He was tall and very handsome, with nice eyebrows, clean skin and rosy lips, but his skin was pale and he was wearing mourning attire. Jon noticed that so did his parents. Headmaster Bouchard was talking to them reassuringly while holding a protective hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Headmaster Bouchard turned around and smiled when he saw Lady Sims. He invited all three adults outside, so he could talk to some of the others as well and to let the boys meet. Lady Sims’ servants set Jon’s luggage by his bed and left. Jon found himself alone with the two boys who were going to be his roommates from now on.

“My name is Jonathan Sims.” He said, trying and succeeding in controlling the anxiety in his voice. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Timothy Stoker.” The black-haired boy said, shaking his hand. “Call me Tim. Nice to meet you too!”

“I’m Martin Blackwood!” The ginger boy said, shyly shaking both of their hands.

“Are you guys from far away?” Tim said, letting himself fall on his bed. His cheery attitude didn’t really match his black clothes. Jonathan assumed the deceased wasn’t anyone close.

“No, from London.” Martin said, resuming unpacking.

“I’m from Bournemouth.” Jon said, opening his own suitcase.

“Oh! You grew up next to the beach!” Tim said. “Must have been fun!”

“It was alright.” Jon said, hesitating. He grew up next to the beach, but couldn’t swim to save his life.

The ruckus of the first day of moving in didn’t stop until it got dark. It was alright. They had plenty of time to meet the next day. Lady Sims gave Jonathan a quick and dispassionate hug before walking the way back to her carriage.

Jonathan crawled under the sheets. Martin’s candle was to be blown out last until all three got settled. Jonathan felt a bit of dread at the thought of being surrounded by darkness in such a new and unknown place. He could hear his classmates through the walls, whispering and laughing. _Jesus, how do some people make friends so fast?_

The sky outside was pitch black and the moon’s light illuminated the cloud that was covering her. Jon looked around the room, illuminated faintly and orange by the candle. Martin was getting pulling the heavy comforter up and getting in bed. Tim was sitting very still and quiet in his own bed, hugging one of the pillows, staring at the wall. He didn’t seem to be intending to go to sleep yet. Jonathan wanted to ask if he was all right, but felt it was inappropriate - they barely met.

Martin put out the candle.

“Good night!” He said as the comforter rustled.

“Good night!” Jonathan said.

“Good night!” Tim said too.

The chaos in the dormitory the previous day was recreated in the corridors of the school-proper. The first year students were absolutely lost. Older students were either rudely not helping, or rushing to class themselves. Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood and Tim Stoker walked quickly down the hallways, looking down at the program, back up at the numbers on the classrooms, back down, back up, getting more and more helpless. They wore their pristine new uniforms. Tim wore a black shirt under the green coat rather than the white one.

“That door didn’t even have a number!” Tim shouted.

“It has to be here somewhere.” Jonathan said.

“Can they not afford to replace fallen numbers?!”

“Tim, please…” Martin said, looking at the program he held between the three of them again.

They made a tour of the first floor for the third time when Jonathan snapped.

“That is _it_, I’m asking someone.” He said.

“I tried.” Martin said. “He told me to f off.”

Tim cocked an eyebrow “…you mean ‘fuck’?”

“_Tim_!”

“I’m asking _them_!” Jon decided and marched to them.

“Them” were two boys that looked older. They were, but only by one year. One of them had long black hair, an oval face with a birthmark under his eye and a little stubble, and the other was dandelion-blond, a round face and bright-green eyes. The blond was tall – _very_ tall, holy crap – and the black haired one looked already so tired and it was only the first day. Both of them stopped in their tracks when Jonathan walked in front of them and asked where their classroom was.

“You’ve passed it.” The shorter one said. “It’s the one that doesn’t have a number on the door.”

“Are you _serious_?” Tim said.

“Thank you so much!” Jonathan said.

“You’re very welcome!”

The classroom still had some seats left. The teachers weren’t rushing to be at class on time, considering the current confusion. They can afford to be a little softer on the first day. Only the first one, however.

The classroom was white with light brown floorboards. In the back were coats hangers and a supply closet. On the wall of the door were a few paintings made by former students, of landscapes at dawn or dusk. There were three large windows overlooking the front gate and entrance, the little garden and the fountain. The desks were made as to hold two children at once, and they were arranged in three rows that took up the classroom. Most of the empty seats were the front ones, people even fighting for the ones in the back. Jonathan found it stupid. The teachers were going to see them anyway. Jonathan took a front seat without hesitation, on the row in the middle. Martin asked if he could sit next to him. Jon didn’t see why not. Tim sat behind Jon and another boy was hesitating to sit behind Martin.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked.

“There’s a spider on the chair.” The boy, whose name was Carlos Vittery, said.

Jon and Martin turned around to look and a few boys came closer to see it too. On the chair sat without a worry in the world a light grey daddy-long-legs.

“Just kill it.” Tim said.

“No! Don’t!” Martin said. “Spiders aren’t bad insects. They eat mosquitos.”

“Push it away.” Tim rectified.

“…You do it.” Carlos said, fidgeting with his hands.

Before Tim could do it, Jon took his copybook and slammed it against the spider. It didn’t stand a chance and it remained imprinted on the back of Jon’s copybook. Martin made a sound of sadness and Carlos took a seat.

“Good morning, gentlemen!” An old man walked in and closed the door behind himself. He was far too cheerful for eight in the morning. He was very old, a pink skeleton of a man with no hair or beard, but with eyes very much alive and clever. He wore a sky-blue suit and used a cane to walk. He took a seat at the teacher’s desk and crossed his legs. “Let’s introduce each-other, shall we?” He smiled. “My name is Mr Simon Fairchild and I will be you physics teacher! I also substitute for other classes when my colleagues are unavailable or do not feel like seeing you for the day, so you’ll be seeing me around plenty!”

Mr Fairchild picked up the attendance list and straightened it theatrically. “Let’s see who you all are. You’ll tell me a bit about yourselves as well.”

Oh shit, Jonathan thought.

He survived it, and the class continued. Mr Fairchild didn’t intend to teach on the first day so he spent it chatting with the boys and giving them advice on surviving the other teachers. Jonathan mentioned he liked reading and Mr Fairchild told him he will either love of despise Mrs Keay, the English literature teacher. That was his next class. He was going to find out soon. Mr Fairchild quoted Keats’ “I should like her to ruin me” when talking about her late husband.

Mr Fairchild was a very approachable and talkative man and the boys liked him quickly, but it was undeniable there was something bizarre about him. He seemed to know so much about everything, as though he had lived for even longer than he looked like. Some of the boys were surprised he was still working, that he hadn’t retired yet. Mr Fairchild answered that they can’t get him to quit. They tried. He laughed a lot at that.

There was a ten minutes break until the next class. The boys used it to find the next classroom. This one looked pretty much the same. It had portraits of writers and it overlooked the empty field. Jon and Martin sat on the front of the window row. Tim sat in the front in the middle with that Vittery boy again.

“Good morning, everyone.” Mrs Mary Keay said as she walked in. “My name is Mary Keay and I will be you English literature teacher.” She was a tall and skinny weasel-like woman, with grey-blonde hair gathered in a bun and fair skin. She used to be a beauty and still was. She had high and defined cheekbones, sharp and wrinkled eyes and bold eyebrows. She wore a mostly black dress with light grey on the sleeves and chest. She explained the books and the literary time periods they were going to go through. Her teaching was logical and entertaining enough, but her mousy voice and dark sense of humour when it came to writers and the time periods they lived through, the boys began to wonder just how she became a widow.

At ten o’clock was the lunch break. The three made their way to the cafeteria, which very soon was packed with students from all four years. Jonathan spotted the blond and black-haired boys again. He wanted to sit with them, but they were already at a table with other boys and he didn’t want to be annoying. But he did manage to hear that the blond’s name was Michael and the black-haired’s was Gerard. Jon, Tim and Martin ate the lunch they were served - not stellar, but not that bad. It’s hard to mess up with potatoes.

The next class was geography. Jonathan was suprised to see that the teacher, Mr Mikaele Salesa, was a dark skinned man and he felt a little better about his own tan in the sea of cheese-white that was his classmates. Mr Salesa had previously travelled all over the world and he had plenty of stories to impress the new students with. 

Next was mathematics with a man of Russian origin named Mr Sergei Yushanka. He had a very thick accent and his teeth were a little crooked, making his speech hissy, but luckily the numbers written on the blackboard was universally understandable, even if the new formulas were not.

Next was philosophy with Mr Adelard Dekker. Jon was even more suprised to see a man of colour. Mr Dekker was a short man, but very imposing and the boys went quiet instinctively when he spoke. He encouraged the boys to analyse everything they read in their own perspective. Mr Dekker also seemed to be a bit of a philosopher himself and spend a big part of the class critiquing the validity of other philosophers that were too dead to defend themselves.

Last class of the day was sports. The school board had the sense to put it last so the boys didn’t go back to classes stinking of sweat more than their teen-selves already did. Jonathan was not glad. His short and scrawny frame was accentuated even more by the sports uniform. They had to perform several things to verify their current atheticism.

“Come on, Sims!” The teacher shouted. “You look like you’re on the verge of death! That’s barely 50 meters!”

Oh God, shut the hell up! he thought but didn’t say out loud. 

Back in the lockerrooms, he got whipped with at least three towels. This is Hell.

“Are you all right, Jon?” Martin asked, getting dressed.

“No.” He grumbled.

“Would you like to go eat?”

A boy in the back made a joke about Martin wishing to eat and some of the others laughed. Jon wanted to punch them. Sports bring out the worst in people. This day started ok and now it’s gone down the drain.

Jon, Martin and Tim ate potatoes again and went back to their room. They weren’t given any homework yet, other than the reading list from Mrs Keay. Jon headed to the library together with Martin, while Tim went to hang out with some other guys.

The librarian, Mr Jurgen Leitner (this school is very international), made them library cards and told them where to find what they needed. Mrs Keay usually gave the same reading lists unless something good enough comes out. Everyone’s writing a novel lately.

“What kind of books do you like, Jon?” Martin whispered.

“What?” Jon asked, scanning the shelves and leaning towards Martin to hear better.

“Wh-What kind of books do you like?” He repeated, surprised by the sudden closeness.

“Oh! I like novels. My favourite is Frankenstein.”

“Oh, that one’s scary.”

“I know, that’s why I like it. There are so many books on adventure and _romance._” he grimaced at the latter “Scary and weirder books are more interesting.”

“They do sound interesting.”

“What do you like, Martin?”

“O-Oh! I like poetry!”

“That’s nice!”

“Y-Yes, I, um... I kind of want to become a poet.”

Jonathan didn’t answer for a moment and was careful to reach for a book so Martin wouldn’t see his judgemental expression. Lady Sims would invite poets at dinners and tea parties and they were... tiresome, as to use non-vulgar, non-noble language.

“Really?” Jon asked, exagerrating his interest.

“Y-Yes. I wrote only a little so far.”

“Well, pratice makes perfect.”

“Yeah.”

The boys found the books they needed and many more than they did. They found a table and got to reading. There were other students in the library. It was a very large marble-white room with rows upon rows of shelves lined with golden and copper. The colour came from the book covers, which came in the thousands of thousands. The other students making use of the library were not as mindful of the others’ need for silence. Jon was already ticked off by sports and everything related to it. Two people were loudly talking and the last drop in the already over-spilling cup was when one of them laughed with wheezes that sounded like he was choking.

“Let’s leave.” Jon said, gathering his things.

“A-All right.” Martin hurried to get up.

Jonathan and Martin reunited with Tim at dinner. Jon was annoyed again by the older students picking a fight among themselves. Nothing became of it. They were all bark, no bite, but they were keen of deafening those around them first.

“We’re going for a walk.” Tim said. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure!” Martin said.

“Thank you, but I’m going to bed.” Jon said.

“But it’s only six o’clock.” Martin furrowed his brows.

“I’m tired.” Jon said, more snappish than he intended.

“Oh... all right...” Martin said and left with Tim and the others.

Jon walked fast back to the dormitory, avoidimg collisions with some dandies-in-the-making that didn’t care for other people’s space to walk. In the corridor where their room was, a boy was walking the opposite direction when another one tackled him to the ground. Jon had to flatten against the wall as to not be crushed by both of them. Jon hurried through the choir of laughter. He closed himself in his room and let himself fall on the bed. He crossed his arms over his eyes and enjoyed the silence which lasted about ten seconds when the neighbouring room errupted with the barbaric screams specific to boys that grew to be assholes and wife-beaters. Jon groaned out loud. He rolled in bed on his stomach and looked out the window. The sky was an orange-red-pink that made it look like it was on fire. Night was coming faster every day.

Jonathan thought for a moment before walking to his closet and taking out the emptied suitcase. He felt a secret compartiment before opening it with a smile. His grandmother and servants didn’t check for cigarettes. This would calm him down.

He hid the pack and a match in his uniform and looked out the window at the sports field. Nobody was visible smoking from where he was - of course not. He could guess where others were smoking and chose the one furthest away, where no one would be. It looked like the former lockerrooms, next to which a shed was made. It was far but it was fine. The last thing he wanted was more noise.

He walked outside, careful not to bump into Tim and Martin. It would have been awkward to refuse going outside with them and then be spotted outside. A bunch of boys were playing soccer on the field and another bunch was chatting while sitting on the stadium seats. Jon managed to make his way past them silently. He got to the edge of the sports field, to the former lockerrooms and shed. The sky was transitioning from orange to inky blue by the time he arrived.

He looked back to make sure no one gave a damn about what he was doing. The soccer players were wrapping it up and the stadiums were empty. Jon smiled and went behind the shed, between it and the delapidated building. Almost all the windows of the dormitory were lit up, he had a safe path back for plenty of time.

Jonathan took out the blessed pack and lit the match against his shoe. The orange glow of the cigarette lighting up in front of his nose and the blue thread of smoke seeling were almost magical.

“Can I have a cigarette?”

Jon yelped and dropped the cigarette from his mouth. His eyes darted around until they saw the figure in the old lockerrooms. He or she or they were sitting in the shadows of the fallen front door. All Jon could see in the growing darkness was the sillhouette of a person, sitting tall and with their arms to their side, one bent up at the elbow and extended towards him. They were moving side to side, switching their weight from one leg to another.

“C-Can I help you?” He asked.

“Can I have a cigarette?” The person asked again, tone and cadence unchanged.

“What...”

Jon looked at the pack in his hand and he was so dumbfound, he picked another one out. He stretched his hand towards the strange person. It was proper dark now. The person didn’t move an inch. 

“Can I have a cigarette?” The person asked again.

“I’m handing you one.” Jon said, furrowing his brows, taking a cautious step closer. He couldn’t tell any features of the person. Jon eyed them from head to toe. Their feet were off the ground.

Jon suddenly felt an iron grip on his arm. He dropped the second cigarette. He had to run to keep up with the person pulling him away from the shed and old lockerrooms. This new person suddenly stopped when the other side of the field was reached and Jon nearly collided with him.

It was Gerard. He panted as he looked to where they came from.

“Gerard?” Jonathan asked, panting too.

“Are you all right?” Gerard asked.

“Y-Yes, I am... Wh-What was that?!”

“A very dangerous thing. You’re lucky I saw you walk towards it.”

Gerard looked down at Jon’s other hand and snatched the cigarette pack from it. “Smoking is bad, you idiot. Haven’t you read the new papers that came out?” He said as he took some and put them in his pocket. 

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at him and sighed. “What _was_ that thing?”

Gerard thought for a moment. “It’s... a sort of monster. It pretends to be a person. That’s why nobody smokes over there anymore.”

“Thank you.” Jon sighed again.

They were quiet for a while. Jonathan was unsure what to do next. 

“You should go back inside.” Gerard said.

“Y-Yes.”

“And don’t go alone in places you don’t know!” Gerard called after him as Jon walked back inside.

Tim and Martin were back in the room when Jonathan arrived, looking over books the two of them brought earlier.

“Where have you been?” Tim asked.

“Um, bathroom.” Jon said and joined them. “How was the walk?”

“The field is full of bugs...” Martin said.

Jonathan looked warily at the window facing the sports field as the three of them got ready for bed. Tim, who had the last lit candle, also seemed reluctant to go to bed. Martin was already tucked under the sheets with his eyes closed. Tim eventually blew the candle too. The room was pitch black and so was the sky, outside, where that thing was.

“Good night!” Tim said.

“Good night!” Martin said.

“Good night.” Jon said. “...Good night, Tim!”

“Good night, Jon!”

“Good night, Martin!”

“Good night, Jon!”

“...Good night, Carlos!” Jon called out.

“Good night!” Carlos Vittery called from the other room.

“... Sleep well, Martin!”

“You too, Jon!”

“Sleep well, Tim!”

“Jon, go to bed.”

“All right...”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <333  
As a warning, future chapters posting will be all over the place. I currently have two more chapters prepared in my mind. Tbh, I don't really know where it will be going after that :'''). I'll try not to leave any cliffhangers unless I have the next chapter ready. I'm in my last year of college, but when I'm not writing my thesis (about the victorian era actually!), I will try to write a little for this fic.  
Thank you again for reading even this much! And thank you in advance for your patience!


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